


been here the whole time

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-02-15 14:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18671809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “I cannot, for the life of me, tell which one you’re pining after,” Delphi said, very seriously, and Scorpius choked.Or, Scorpius Malfoy gets a job at the town coffeeshop and soon realizes that he himself has no idea which one of his two coworkers he's truly head over heels for.





	1. Chapter 1

“No? Okay. Let me spell it out for you slowly.”

Delphi leaned onto the countertop, head perched on her hands as she pointedly disregarded the concept of personal space. She hovered closer still, eyes glinting with something akin to manic glee.

Scorpius nervously eyed the growing queue behind her.

“Let’s see — you’re in the book club, the physics club _and_ the maths club, etc,” she listed, spelling out the letters at the end, bobbing her head side to side with each syllable. “You volunteer at the library two times a week, and you tried out for half the sports teams on a whim in your _final year_ — stupid boy. You don’t need any of that when you’re already pre-accepted into three of the best universities in the country, and you sure as hell don’t need a job. Your father is bound to pay for everything.”

Someone behind her in line cleared their throat, soft yet decisive.

Scorpius winced. “Delphi, you’re holding up the — ”

“Is this because that Rose girl works here? _This_ is her father’s shop? What, are you hoping that screwing up half the coffee orders in your first week and pitifully asking her help will make her hate you less? And let’s face it, she does hate you.”

Scorpius wheezed out a whistle of a breath. He was a nervous creature by nature, jittery and shaky, not at all skilled at dealing with any variety of high stress situations, least of all the sort with Delphi involved.

“Listen, there’s quite a queue forming. You’re not ordering anything, which is against shop policy, need I remind you. So, can you go? Away? We can talk later — or maybe, better yet, never talk about this ever again.”

The man directly behind Delphi opted for a far more exuberant display of his displeasure, groaning in the universal tone for _when will this bitch get a move on?_

His panic simmering and rising to a crescendo within the confines of his chest, Scorpius’ gaze flickered over to his co-worker. Albus, polishing a table to the nth degree, tragically did not notice.

Delphi followed his line of sight, narrowing her eyes at Albus for a few seconds before turning back to Scorpius with a wry smile. For the life of him, Scorpius had no idea what was happening, why she was smiling, or why she wasn’t leaving yet; was she actively trying to cost him his job in his first week?

“Or maybe _that’s_ it,” she said finally.

Her tone betrayed nothing, and Scorpius failed to read between the lines. Understanding Delphi was hard enough on days when his heart wasn’t leaping into his throat, let alone now, when he had a small crowd of disgruntled customers to deal with.

He blinked, confused. His brain made a valiant attempt at formulating a follow-up question but Delphi turned to go before he got the chance. Her ponytail swished as she wove through the queue, head held high as if she didn’t even notice the people in her way.

The bell above the door chimed as it swung shut behind her, and Scorpius gulped.

 

/

 

They closed up together, bundled up in layers of thick scarves and thicker coats. Albus made a theatrical display of showing Scorpius how to set the alarm after hours, and which keys to use for which locks. When he finished he bowed, done with his show. There was something stiff about his movements, like he’d tried this — being casual, even playful —with others before, and it had not ended well.

When he stood up straight again, there was a fond half-smile brightening his features, and Scorpius couldn't quite decipher the meaning behind it any more than he understood Delphi’s cryptic comment earlier in the day. Maybe he was just bad at reading people. Or maybe everyone was out to get him, bent on confusing the hell out of him and making his poor brain explode.

No, that wasn’t it. Albus wouldn’t want anyone’s head to explode. He was nice like that.

“You’re out by the edge of town, aren’t you?” Albus eventually asked, as they turned a dimly lit corner into a smaller side street. The world looked brighter than it had any right to at this hour of night, the twisted leafless branches illuminated by the steady drizzle of crystal white snow.

Scorpius’ father had offered to pick him up after his first shift, but he’d refused, wanting to walk home with his new coworker. He’d never been much good at making friends, but he wasn’t about to give up now. Especially not when the coworker in question was one Albus Potter, cousin of one Rose Granger-Weasley.

It wasn’t that Delphi was right about the ulterior motive of the coffeeshop job. She was only _partially_ right — the Rose thing was an added bonus. The true purpose was breaking out of his shell and trying his luck in a non-academic social setting. It sounded lame, but to Scorpius it made perfect sense. He needed practice before leaving the town he knew and starting a new chapter of his life at an unfamiliar university with thousands of unfamiliar faces.

Scorpius nodded. “Yeah, where the big houses are.”

He stared at his feet, kicking at the snow beneath his feet. “Posh-ville, or whatever you call it.”

“No shame in being rich,” Albus assured him.

“Yeah, well. There’s shame in coming from a family like that, high society or whatnot, and not having the people skills to show for it.”

Albus made a face. “Tell me about it. Ever since my dad left the special forces with all his shiny commendations and came back home, everyone here expects me to be some sort of superhero like he was. It’s driving me up the wall. Some days I forget to tie my shoelaces and trip down the front steps, and they all want me to save the world. Or something,” he added, quieter, when he realized he was ranting. “Isn’t your dad sort of a hermit, though? Would explain a lot. The social stuff, I mean.”

Scorpius felt his anxiety bubbling back up. He forced the words out before his tone wavered and gave his feelings away, “You’re saying I’m not a people person.”

Albus shrugged. “You’re not. Don’t worry, though. I’m not either, so we’re a good fit. I mean — I think. We’ll see. We shall wait and see,” he finished, his voice taking on a higher, singsongy pitch.

Scorpius knew that feeling well enough — saying something without thinking it through and finishing off with a laugh at one’s own expense. He couldn’t fathom what Albus was ashamed of saying, though.

He tilted his head and waited for his coworker ( _acquaintance? friend? was that being too hopeful?_ ) to elaborate.

Taking the hint, Albus did. “I, uh, saw your face fall a bit when you saw me behind the counter today. Figured as much — that you didn’t apply to see _me_ everyday. Rose only works weekends, sorry to disappoint. She’s a bit more dedicated to her schoolwork than I am. Just want you to know, by the way, on the off chance you want to hit on my cousin, don’t you dare ask me to put in a good word for you.”

Scorpius screeched to a halt, going both white and red simultaneously and very much against his will. He hadn’t considered that his sort-of ulterior motive would be figured out so soon, and by so many people.

Albus stopped in his tracks as well.

“I’m only joking,” he said, dropping the prior hint of sarcasm from his tone. He sounded cautious, almost like he was trying to be just as careful with this potential friend as Scorpius was. “I don’t care who she dates. I mean, I still refuse to be your wingman because it’s weird, setting you up with my family. And don’t think any of this means that you can slack off when you’re paired with me on shifts — I may seem harmless but Rose isn’t the only one you need to impress.”

Scorpius felt an odd twist of bravery in his gut. He decided, then and there, that he liked Albus. It was hard to find someone just as awkward and just as unpopular with both fellow students and townsfolk, yet Albus somehow ticked all the right boxes. Boldly, Scorpius said, “And here I was thinking you were already impressed. All day and not a single drop of precious coffee spilled.”

Albus laughed. “No, you’re right. Consider me impressed.”

A beat passed, the crisp snow crunching beneath their boots as they began to walk again. They crossed the street side by side, the world glowing green, then orange, then red beneath the streetlights.

Half a block down, Albus spoke up again. “Who was that girl? At the counter?”

Scorpius clicked his tongue. “Rules work both ways, my good sir. If you don’t want to help me win your cousin’s heart, I won’t help you win mine. My cousin’s, I mean. Not mine, for the record. I mean Delphi, my cousin. Sort of. Second cousin. She’s my dad’s cousin.”

Albus inexplicably flushed a shade of pink. Either that, or it was the cold air biting at his cheeks. Unimportant distinction. “That’s not why I asked,” he insisted. “I just — was wondering. She’s way out of my league, anyway.”

“No one’s really in her league — she’s a whole new category. To be honest, you should be glad you’re not in her league. Point being, if you see her in the street, run and don’t look back.”

“That bad?”

“Can be,” Scorpius admitted.

Silence fell. As far as introductions went, with all the hesitant bits and pieces of personal details and family backstory that they entailed, this wasn’t a total nightmare. Albus Potter was not a total nightmare, though Scorpius’ father might have led him to believe that the entire Potter family was just that.

Maybe he was getting the hang of this friends thing, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

“I don’t need a babysitter. It’s been three weeks. I know how to use a microwave,” Scorpius told Rose, very seriously.

She’d implied that he was too inexperienced to be left alone with kitchen duty. He’d taken it to heart and got his feelings hurt. It was just another typical Saturday behind the counter at Ron Weasley’s run-down coffee shop.

“No offense, but you did forget to turn the tap off and left it running for two hours last week. Better to be safe than sorry,” she said curtly, and returned to the cash register.

That had been a complete accident, but Scorpius knew better than to tell the truth. Especially since the truth involved glancing at his phone whilst on the job and getting spectacularly distracted by major spoilers of the latest franchise blockbuster. Not only had he wasted gallons of precious water, but he’d ruined his moviegoing experience with the knowledge of which superhero would sacrifice their life to save humanity. And for what? All it’d brought him was a long lecture from Rose and a few hours of heartache.

Fiddling with a wrinkled sheet of paper towel, Scorpius lingered behind, longingly watching her curls bounce as she walked away. Yes, it was a little bit pathetic, but that’s who he was. He wasn’t about to pretend to be some knight in shining armor to sweep her off her feet. Either he got her to like loser Scorpius, or he threw in the towel.

The reality was this: three weeks had come and gone and he was no closer to wrapping the girl of his dreams around his finger.

Scorpius imagined Albus giggling at him from the far side of the room, looking between him and Rose and saying, _if anything, I bet she likes you even less now._ That was how it always played out. Then, Scorpius would let his head droop down, sad puppy eyes hidden behind the sweep of his fringe, and Albus would fix him with one of those unreadably soft smiles, all reassuring and sincere and impossibly warm.

“Hazelnut latte with caramel syrup! _Less sugar this time!_ ”

Rose’s voice from the counter out front violently tugged Scorpius out of his odd daydream. It was curious, and perhaps a little sad, that he sometimes missed Albus’ friendly teasing enough to constantly imagine entire exchanges between the two of them.

He felt warm, suddenly, as if the heat had been turned all the way up and he was pressed flush against the radiator — the way he felt when Rose told him his coffee-top foam hearts were atrocious, or when Albus made ridiculous faces at him from across the room in hopes of getting him to spontaneously burst out laughing in front of customers.

He didn’t have time to unpack all that. He had to get to work on a hazelnut latte with caramel syrup, following Rose’s instructions diligently, down to a T. There was no room for error.

It wasn't that he was afraid of getting fired — despite his many faults, hewas remarkably good at his job: a quick learner and a star pupil to boot. Yes, Rose’s father owned the place which, yes, could end in tragedy on the off chance he pissed her off a smidge too badly. But, all things considered, a single spoonful of sugar too many was hardly reason enough to fire someone. Nor was the incident with the tap. Or the earlier incident with the frozen meat pies. All in all, it wasn’t like he was stealing money from the register or neglecting his duties and sneaking out for cigarettes. He was dutiful and wholly responsible, even if his clumsiness tended to overshadow that every so often.

The real reason everything had to be perfect was Rose. Obviously. A single smile from her, a single _good job_ , would be enough to make everything worthwhile. The sun would shine and birds would sing. Or so Scorpius imagined.

He absently reached for the nearby milk carton and wondered, if her eyes would light up the way Albus’ did when he smiled, or if her nose would scrunch up the way his did.

His cheeks felt hot and his chest felt tight. Either he was coming down with a fever, or his overwhelming crush on Rose had kicked it up a notch.

He started to cross the room, heading for the spice rack, before freezing in his tracks. There was something bubbling in his chest, hot and uncomfortable, like the nauseating anxiety before a physics test, except stronger. And stranger. Maybe there was a third option.

Moving as though through a haze, he knocked the appropriate ingredients into a blender, careful not to make a mess or misread the recipe hanging up on the wall, and hit the lowest setting.

The sharp hum of the blender filled the room and Scorpius looked down at the swirling coffee and felt a deep sense of kinship with it — he too felt like his brain was turning to mush inside his skull.

The third option was ridiculous and, if he was being deeply honest, outlandish, farfetched and utterly comical.

He blamed Delphi. Her nonsense was getting to him.

 

/

 

Harry choked on his tea, suddenly wishing he’d asked for something stronger than Earl Grey.

“You hired a Malfoy? The little one?”

Ginny was at work, and he and Ron sat in the Potters’ dining room, nursing matching cups of steaming tea on porcelain coasters. They weren’t being lazy, although Hermione often called them just that. Everyone needed to take time to relax and catch up with old friends every once in a while; it was a primary human need, right up on the Maslow pyramid next to basic shelter and unlimited garlic bread.

Ron cocked his head and made a face. “No, the big one. Draco was desperate to become a barista.”

Harry steamrolled on. “Why?”

“I — ” Ron paused and frowned. “ — You do know I didn’t actually hire Draco, right? It’s important to me that you understand that.”

Harry set his cup down so unsteadily that half the tea sloshed over the rim and onto the coaster. Some things warranted extreme reactions. Anything involving the Malfoy family was one of those things.

“Yes, Ron, I know,” Harry said slowly. “The _why_ still stands. It’s not like Scorpius needs the money.”

Ron shrugged. “Kids aren’t exactly lining up to work for me. I think they’re terrified of Hermione — by proxy, sort of. Imagine if she dropped by one day, to see me, or if Rose forgot something at home. Imagine: you’re a sixteen year old kid working the register for the first time in your life, you can barely count without using your fingers, and the mayor herself prances in and sizes you up, searching for flaws. Bloody awful, I reckon.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Right,” Ron said slowly, because Harry was slowly getting as worked up about Draco Malfoy as he’d been in their sixth year at school. It had gotten out of hand then, and nobody needed a repeat of that now.

“When Scorpius applied, I was hesitant, obviously. But his resume was spotless and honestly impressive for someone his age, so I wasn’t going to toss it in the bin just like that. So, I asked Albus about him — ”

Harry made an indecipherable sound, like the notion of Ron contacting his son without his explicit permission was a capital offense.

Ron continued, ignoring the interruption. “ — they’re classmates, I’m assuming, or something. And he seemed _very_ enthusiastic about it, he said Scorpius was a good kid, so how could I say no. I didn't have any reason to, aside from him being Malfoy spawn and all that. B’sides, Harry, it’s been — it’s going on five weeks, have you only just found this out? Where’s your head been at?”

A few moments passed in complete silence, then Harry exhaled so deeply his bones practically rattled with weariness. “Hermione’s got me working as a consultant, whatever that means. I haven’t been sleeping. My scar’s been hurting again. You know what that would be a sign of in a children’s book? An omen. Something wicked approaching. Like a dark cloud around our world.”

Ron blinked. “Right. You ought to see someone about that.”

“Have you considered that Draco sent him there to spy on you?”

“Have you considered hot yoga, or perhaps meditation?” Ron retorted. “You’re being paranoid. What would Draco possibly want with me? My super secret strawberry cheesecake milkshake recipe? I got it off the internet, we all know that.”

“All I’m saying, Ron, is tread carefully.”

“And all I’m saying, oh great one, is lay off those murder mystery films you’ve been binging during your sleepless nights.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “You — ”

“Ginny calls to complain about you sometimes. Can’t say I blame her. Look, point is, don’t write Scorpius off just because he looks like the spitting image of his dad — albeit scrawnier and more nervous,” he added as an afterthought. “He and Albus seem to be getting on, which is more than could be said for literally anyone who’s tried to work a shift with your kid over the past year. There’s hope for him still.”

Harry made a face like he was sulking, which he wasn’t, because grown men did not sulk. He picked his tea back up, grimacing at the sticky handle.

“I still don’t trust him.”

“And you don’t have to,” Ron assured him. “I know you’ve saved the world and whatnot, so everything is a matter of life and death for you but the good news is, making coffee has never killed anyone. I think. So, you do you, go on prophesying the end of the world, but I’m gonna keep Scorpius on, because he makes a decent flat white and hasn’t actively poisoned anyone.”

Harry took a menacing sip of his tea. “Yet.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I cannot, for the life of me, tell which one you’re pining after.”

Scorpius choked on his water. He took a moment to sputter inelegantly, then screwed the cap back onto the bottle and stashed it under the counter. Maybe he missed on his first try, and had to shuffle after the bottle as it rolled away across the tiled floor. Just maybe. Nobody had seen, nobody had heard, nobody had to know why he was suddenly as jittery as his grandpa Lucius that one time he forgot his cane, his meds, and ordered a double espresso at Starbucks on a whim.

Scorpius hopped to his feet and glared.

Delphi was at the counter again, watching him innocently. Her burning black eyes bore into him like soulless black holes, swallowing up every ounce of his composure.

“What?” she asked, faux puzzlement written all over her features.

Scorpius stared back. “What, what? What are you talking about?”

She huffed, and turned her attention back to her plastic cup, swirling the coffee and ice cubes into a palatable slush. She’d at least had the decency to order something this time around, before taking to wasting Scorpius’ precious time.

“You talk about the girl, whatever her name is, a lot — don’t give me that look, you _do so_ talk about her. You think I don’t sneak around behind your back getting answers from people? I know everything about everyone, and you’ve known me for long enough to know that’s true. Besides, I don’t even need to threaten anyone to see the way you look at her longingly when she’s behind the counter, stacking pastries. I can see your sad little face past the kitchen door. So, that’s one version of the story. But then, when you’ve got a shift with the Potter kid, you’re so — bubbly. Happy. Which is a weird look on you. Not bad, just _new_. But then, if one looks closer, in-between those giddy episodes, you’ve got this distant, lovesick look in your eye again, just like with the girl. Like you’ve gone all soft and you’re a second away from running up to him and begging him to go with you to a run-down diner, squish into a booth in the back, and split a single milkshake with two straws like they do in the movies. So, I repeat my conundrum — I just can’t tell which one of them you’re into.”

Scorpius was suddenly immeasurably glad and wholeheartedly relieved that Albus wasn’t with him behind the counter, instead taking far too long to take out the rubbish. The security cameras out back were on the fritz, and everyone used clean-up duty as an excuse to scroll down social media for a few minutes during their impromptu breaks. Scorpius thanked his lucky stars for his boss’ ineptitude at getting things fixed.

A loud slurp jerked Scorpius back to reality. Delphi was watching him in that unsettling way of hers again, impatiently awaiting an answer. She drummed her fingertips against the countertop.

Unfortunately, there was no queue behind her this time, no pretext for shooing her far, far away. It was almost as if she’d done her research and staked the place out for days to determine when they got the least traffic, just so she could corner Scorpius and demand answers to questions he’d never even considered before.

Because, in all honesty, this was all news to him — everything she’d said was so far out of left field he had trouble wrapping his head around it. Alright, maybe there was truth to the Rose thing, but Delphi didn’t need to know that. The stuff about Albus, though? That was a reach. The mere notion of any romantic interest in Albus made Scorpius go hot with perplexed embarrassment. He couldn’t tell where Delphi got her ideas, or if she genuinely wanted a definitive answer from him. For all he knew, she was playing an extremely slow-burn practical joke, with a punchline that was bound to be catastrophic.

“Well?” she prompted, when Scorpius continued to say absolutely nothing. “How am I supposed to be your wing-woman if you don’t tell me who the target is?”

That got his attention. He shuddered involuntarily. The concept was horrifying. “No. No, I’d rather you stay out of it. Far away from it. I beg you, don’t get involved.”

Delphi’s smile fell away. The look on her face would have been sad, Scorpius thought, had she been capable of actually feeling authentic human emotion.

“Why?” she demanded.

“Well. One, I have no idea what you’re talking about, so I can’t help you help me, because I don’t know what you want to help me with. And two, I would just — prefer you staying — out of my business?”

He finished meekly, with a shrug and an attempt at a placating half-smile.

Delphi snorted. Of course she wasn’t offended. As presumed, she obviously didn't have feelings. “Have I ever done anything to wrong you?”

 _I’d rather not say_ , Scorpius didn’t say, because Delphi wasn’t above launching into a self-important tirade about being the best woman for any job, or ranting for hours on end about how horribly unappreciated she was by anyone and everyone.

Instead of answering aloud, he looked down at the squiggles on the marble countertop and threw his shoulders up in another limp shrug.

Delphi, disheartened, shook her coffee cup in annoyance. There was no coffee left, just ice and slush, but she wasn’t giving up.

“You’re so boring and mopey when _Albus_ isn’t here,” she said, sticking to her delusional story. “Look, my mum always says — ”

Scorpius interrupted her with a humorless bark of laughter. “No offense, but I am most certainly _not_ following your mother’s advice, thank you. Spare me.”

Delphi had the audacity to look surprised.

Scorpius dropped both hands onto the counter, palms down, and heaved a sigh. He felt ancient, like the conversation had aged him hundreds of years. “I just don’t — whatever you’re seeing, it’s — I’m not — _into_ Albus. We’re friends. Maybe you’re mistaking that for something else, on the grounds that I’ve never really had friends before. Or, not like this, at least. So, can you please give all this a bit of thought before you inevitably start to meddle?”

It was wishful thinking. She was no doubt already scheming.

Delphi squinted at him for the better part of a minute, then swiveled on her heel and left, leaving her empty cup on the counter like the heathen she was.

As if on cue, the door to the back room swung open and Albus emerged.

“Hey,” he said, and Scorpius jumped a foot into the air.

There was nothing quite as effective at spiking his heart rate and leaving him susceptible to surprise attacks as a ten minute conversation with Delphi.

“Okay,” Albus went on hesitantly, once Scorpius found his footing and breathed in a huge, calming gulp of air, “I’ll get back to grinding coffee, and leave you to your weird, dramatic looking-off-into-the-distance schtick. Cheers.”

 

/

 

Draco Malfoy was sitting in a velvet armchair by the fireplace, looking every inch the aristocratic villain the town made him out to be. What was that thing everyone said — _if you can’t beat them, join them_. So, he’d given up on fighting the losing fight and joined the merry crowd painting him as a mysterious and brooding relic, becoming the town’s very own urban legend.

“And you’re sure it’s not getting in the way of your schoolwork? Projects? Your friend from AP History — Craig, is it — you’re not neglecting him?”

Scorpius rocked back on the heels of his feet before plopping down in the armchair opposite his father. Sometimes wealth had its upsides. The luxury, the opulence, all that — it was too much, it drew too much attention, bitter glances and narrowed eyes. But the armchairs in the sitting room? Those were worth every penny, jealous townsfolk be damned. Scorpius could practically feel his weariness dissipating, melting into the fabric.

“Are you actually worried about me falling behind, or falling prey to the Potters? And the rest of his gang, by extension. I know you pretend you’re past hating him but you’re really obviously not.”

Draco smiled thinly, curled his fingers tighter around the armrests. So maybe his son was dangerously perceptive, much like his mother had been.

“I just want you to be careful. I’m worried you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. Look, you’ve surpassed my wildest expectations with your academic career and I’m beyond proud of you, I really am,” he paused and took a breath. Finding the right words was hard. He’d never been as good at it as Astoria. “Be cautious, is all — take a moment to think, whether it’s worth the risk, sidelining everything for a crush.”

The world screeched to a halt. Scorpius blinked dumbly at his father, while his blood froze to ice in his veins.

It felt like a scene out of a movie; a gramophone scratching sharply, the music cutting off, the world thrown into silence like a damaged record fading into nothing, his heart clawing its way up his throat in nauseating slow motion.

No one was more surprised than Scorpius himself when the words that stumbled from his lips were level, when his voice didn’t shake.

“A crush?” he echoed weakly. “Where did you — what?” Then it clicked, and he deflated in exasperation. “Did Delphi get to you? What’s she been saying?”

Draco leaned forward, slow and careful. He had a penchant for being cautious around Scorpius ever since his mother died, as if he didn’t want to snap the fragile thread holding them together, and scare his son away forever.

His tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. “Delphi has a great many ideas about a great many things — few of which are worth listening to. Don’t worry about her,” he assured Scorpius. “But, no — I got a call from Mr. Potter himself.”

The temporary security he’d felt for an entire three seconds fell away like the world had crumbled into nonexistence beneath his feet. Scorpius reeled, felt himself transcending past pale, and going straight for translucent. “Am I fired? I mean, I can’t be fired, right? Mr. Potter doesn’t own the cafe, so he can’t actually be the one to fire me. Unless Mr. Weasley made the decision and told Mr. Potter to tell you. Or Mr. Potter pressured Mr. Weasley into making the decision. But why would he do that? I didn’t — ”

Draco held up his hands in a gesture he hoped came off as placating.

“No, Scorpius, of course not. I’d like to see Potter try and fire you over something you didn’t do. Him, or Weasley, or whoever. Believe me when I say I’d give them hell.”

Scorpius wheezed out a ragged breath. His anxiety was going to be the end of him. One day he’d work himself up so badly his nervous system would spontaneously burst into flames, ending it all.

He remained stiff and motionless long enough for Draco to sense that something was off.

“Scorpius, I can see you’re enjoying this job, for whatever reason, and you know I’m going to support your happiness so long as it doesn’t affect your wellbeing. That’s my stance. But dear Mr. Potter seems to be under the impression that your presence is distracting his son from his own endeavors, and he had the gall to ask me to bring that up with you.”

Everything was silent for a moment, then Scorpius’ mouth fell wide open. There were a million and one scenarios he could have envisioned, a million and one ways he could imagine this conversation playing out. This was not one of them. “He — what?”

Draco continued through a grimace, blissfully unaware of Scorpius’ mind short circuiting. “He tried to tell me that you’re a poor influence on Albus. I admit I didn’t listen to the details; I went numb with rage a few seconds into listening to him prattle on, that self-righteous prick — ”

Even when his mind was fuzzy with stress and confusion, Scorpius recognized the warning signs and knew it was up to him to stop his father in his tracks, before he went on a rampage and said some particularly nasty things, or worse, broke an antique vase in the throes of a hissy fit.

“Dad,” he said sharply.

Draco looked up. Right, numb with rage; constantly torn from reality in favor of daydreaming of kicking Potter’s ass into the ground. He had to work on that, controlling his temper. He knew it was pathetic, how enraged the mere thought of his childhood nemesis made him, but sometimes he simply couldn’t help it.

Any time he said anything, he felt a cold twist in his gut, the certainty that Astoria would have handled everything better, no matter what it was. She would have been gentler, in the way she laid out the facts and smiled softly at Scorpius when his eyes grew wide or his hands trembled.

But she was gone, and it was up to Draco to fight for his son’s best interest.

He schooled his expression into a perfect mask of neutrality. He had to set a good example, and the desire to maim Harry Potter was not something he wanted his son emulating. “The gist of it was, I assume, that he thinks you’re steering Albus away from his own ambitions. I don’t know exactly where he got the idea. You’re a model employee, a star student, and the most kind-hearted person I know, after all. So, naturally, at first I thought it was preposterous, but then — ”

He trailed off, the sentence dying a premature death. He didn’t quite know to put his thoughts into words, and how to do it without coming off as insensitive or overly judgmental. Whoever said parenting was easy was a filthy liar.

Scorpius looked at his father warily, mulling the words over in his mind once, then twice, letting them age like a fine wine. Then, he put two and two together, and his heart dropped like an elevator with the wires cut.

Panic and hopeless confusion were a painful combination. Feeling lightheaded, he shook his head and waved his hands frantically in front of himself as if telling his father to backtrack to the starting point of the entire conversation.

“Wait, wait, wait. Crush, earlier you said _crush_. Who said anything about a crush? Who exactly do you think I have a crush on?”

He leaned forward like a concerned moviegoer gripping the edge of his seat during the film’s grand finale.

Draco’s brow furrowed.

“Well, Albus Potter, of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> draco malfoy be like: have y'all seen my son? he’s about this tall, clearly gay but we haven’t had the talk yet


End file.
